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Katsuki bolts up, gasping for air. Sweat drips down his body. His hands pop off without any conscious thought, too much sweat pooled in them. The soaked sheets are scorched, smoke lingering in the air. He tries to forget the awful dream he just had, the cold metal restraining his hands, the strange faces leering at him, the dangerous, deadly hands reaching for him to capture–to hurt–to kill. Nervous energy thrums under his skin and pounds in his chest. Katsuki looks around the room. No one is there. He’s safe. He slowly gets up, wanting to go to his bathroom and clean up a bit. At least, change his damp clothes and wipe the sweat off-
“Shit!”
Katsuki whips his head around. That was Kirishima. He sprints to his neighbor’s door but hesitates to knock. It might be nothing. The idiot could have dropped one of his weights or spilled a drink. Katsuki knows he is still wound up from that dream. But, it could be serious.
Katsuki knocks loudly, but Kirishima doesn’t open the door. In fact, his room has been deathly silent since the shout. Usually, Katsuki can hear him walking around or singing music or working out. A lot of working out. However, now, Katsuki only hears a faint ringing sound that complete silence brings.
He tries to open the door to find it locked, which is also strange for Kirishima. Katsuki has his locked at all times to prevent anybody from sneaking in and messing with his stuff, but Kirishima likes to leave his door open for any of his friends to enter if they need anything.
Katsuki pulls out the spare key Kirishima gave him and unlocks the door with shaky hands as adrenaline lights his nerves on fire. He opens it to see the flame curtains fall back into place as if someone just slipped out onto the balcony. He marches forward, palms heating up for a fight, before spotting something out of place in the corner of his eye.
The bathroom door is partially open and something crimson red coats the doorknob. His heart thunders in his chest. Instead of checking the balcony, he looks in the bathroom to find blood. Blood on the knob and a handprint stark on the white door. Blood dripping off the sink. Blood pooling on the floor, still fresh enough to spread. A lot of blood. Too much for anyone to lose.
The ringing in his ears sharpens in intensity. The room spins in a blur of white and red. So much red. Kirishima’s favorite color. Kirishima. Where is? Shit. The League? Another attack. Kidnap? Where? Knife bitch? So much blood.
Katsuki stumbles back against the stained door which swings back out. He falls to the ground. When he tries to stand, he realizes he feels weak. Air isn’t reaching his lungs. His stomach churns. Gags and wheezes scrape out of his constricted throat.
Faintly, Katsuki hears noise and movement from his right. A shadow falls over him. He can’t move, can’t do anything to protect himself. Searing heat rests on his knee. Part of that heat moves in circles on his leg. A thumb. He realizes. A hand is on him.
Katsuki recognizes some of the noise as little pops of his explosions. The rest is his name being called over and over along with platitudes. The circles continue. Katsuki concentrates on all of that. Eventually, the room slowly reassembles itself, turning from a jumbled mess to a watercolor painting where he can finally make out Kirishima crouching in front of him, still whispering words of comfort.
Katsuki clasps onto Kirishima's grounding hand without thinking about it. Kirishima’s hand hardens without a word, protecting himself from Katsuki’s misfires. He shuts his eyes and forces his breath to even. When he opens his eyes, everything is almost too sharp. The light stabs into his eyes that he struggles to keep open. He focuses on his friend’s face, ignoring everything else. Kirishima smiles at him, relief softening his face. Katsuki lets go and ignores the freezing absence of the caring touch.
Katsuki has enough air inflating his lungs to ask what the hell happened. He glances at the bathroom and back at Kirishima. Katsuki frowns, confused and worried at the blood staining his friend’s shirt, too. He reaches out, hand hovering right above Kirishima’s soaked chest.
Kirishima winces and rubs the back of his neck. He chews his lips, considering what to say. The look on Katsuki’s face must be screaming at him to get on with it, because Kirishima begins rambling like Deku. Katsuki is too tired to understand everything spewing out of his friend’s mouth, but he catches the gist.
It was just hair dye. Not blood. He spilled it and that’s why he cursed. Shitty Hair locks the door to prevent anyone from finding out about his shitty dyed hair. The idiot ran when Katsuki entered, so he wouldn’t find out about his secret. Katsuki sniffs the air and smells chemicals burning his nose instead of any kind of coppery scent.
Kirishima continues to yap, apologizing for his unmanly lie and shit like that. Katsuki barely listens anymore as the weight on his shoulders evaporates. He slumps down now that the pressure is gone. Kirishima reacts in time to prevent him from hitting the floor. Katsuki rests against him instead. He nestles his head against Kirishima’s solid chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.
Katsuki loses the battle, his eyes slipping shut. A hand slowly rests on his head. As fingers drag soothingly through his hair, Katsuki sleeps. When he wakes up to an annoying alarm screeching about manly good mornings, held against Kirishima on his bed instead of the hard floor, Katsuki realizes he didn’t dream of anything. With Kirishima by his side, nothing could reach him. A small sense of peace and contentment fills him for the first time in a long time as he lays beside a snoring Kirishima.
Those feelings didn’t stop him from blowing up the idiot for a proper wakeup call after all the bullshit from last night. But, it did lead him to knock on Kirishima’s door later that evening and barge in, demanding his friend to make up for causing so much trouble with his stupid secret. Kirishima looks surprised and then delighted, a smile stretching across red cheeks. The bright grin stays on his face as he follows Katsuki to bed. Katsuki relaxes, safe and secure in Kirishima’s sturdy arms. As Kirishima’s steady but slightly elevated heartbeat lulls him to sleep, Katsuki hides his smile against his friend’s shirt. He could get used to this.